With the Swing of a Bat
by CerealKillerZero
Summary: A fourteen-year-old Don Eppes acts rashly to defend his brother, with far reaching consequences


Title: With the Swing of a Bat

Summary: A fourteen-year-old Don Eppes acts rashly to defend his brother, with far reaching consequences

A/N: Prompts from Numb3rs100. Inspired by the following quote:

"Seventeen years old and his future is already a forgone conclusion. Do you know how fearsome a thought that is – that a single choice can determine a destiny?" – Larry Fleinhardt

****

#8 Deviation

Life for the Eppes family changed with the swing of a baseball bat.

One moment Charlie was riding home from school on his bike, shortcutting past the baseball fields, pedaling fast to avoid the bullies chasing and throwing rocks at his head. The next moment he was crashed on the ground, staring in shock at the limp form lying next to him, bleeding severely from a gaping head wound.

Don towered over them, baseball bat in hand, dawning horror replacing the fury previously etched across his face. His voice was thick with emotion as he commanded the remaining bullies to call an ambulance for their friend.

Charlie looked up, caught his brother's eye, and knew with damning certainty that nothing would ever be the same.

****

#103 Arrest

The police arrived moments before the ambulance. Don still had a hand on the baseball bat. Charlie noted that an ugly crimson smear towards the end was dripping small specks of blood. It didn't take long for the two uniform cops to piece together what happened and move swiftly towards Don.

Still Charlie was stunned when one of the officers pulled the bat from Don's loose grip and cuffed his hands behind his back. Don was half pulled towards the police cruiser, moving unsteadily with a disbelieving look on his face.

Charlie tried to follow, but an EMT attempting to press a gauze bandage to his cheek blocked his path. He flinched as the bandage made contact with his skin, the sharp sting being his first indication of injury. However, that slight pain couldn't compare to the ache forming in his stomach as he watched his brother being driven away.

****

#98 Hospital

Charlie was taken to the hospital even though his only injuries seemed to be a few cuts on his head from the rocks and a scrape on his knee from toppling off of his bike. The rock throwing bully faired much worse. From what Charlie could overhear, the boy –Tucker James – had yet to wake up. Nurses walking past spoke in hushed whispers and Charlie make out words like "concussion," "skull fracture," "optic swelling," and "possible brain damage." Sometimes these words were accompanied by pointed looks in his direction or mutters about violent children and poor parenting.

Charlie wanted to scream at them. Didn't they understand? Donnie wasn't violent – he was only protecting his brother. He didn't mean to hurt anyone. Charlie needed to make them understand. Tucker was the bad one, not Don. Charlie just needed his parents to get here. His mom would make those nurses and policemen stop saying bad things about Don.

When his mom did arrive, she was crying. She hugged Charlie tightly and brushed a hand across his face. It came away wet with Charlie's own tears and he collapsed sobbing against her.

****

#133 Evidence

The call to Alan and Margaret came from Don's baseball coach, a severe man with little patience for jokes or horseplay. Had the news come from anyone else, the couple might have believed it was some terrible joke. Alas no, both parents were needed - one to retrieve Charlie from the hospital and the other to meet Don at the police station, where he was being detained.

Margaret only needed to hear the words "Charlie" and "hospital" to know where she was needed most. With a mournful glance at her husband after jotting down the number of a criminal lawyer friend, Margaret rushed off. Alan was left to the second task, one both shocking and incomprehensible.

_Don? Police station? Surely this is a mistake._

However, upon arrival to the station, Alan was greeted with the evidence. A bloody baseball bat was wrapped in a plastic evidence bag and Alan recognized the Louisville Slugger instantly as his son's most recent birthday gift. If that wasn't enough, Alan only needed to glance at his normally proud son, hunched over in a chair, eyes downcast, and looking impossibly small in an interrogation room to know with certainty that no mistake had been made.

****

#33 Uncertainty (300)

The interrogation room was drafty and the fluorescent lights emitted a buzzing noise just loud enough to be distracting. The police officer had brought Don into the room, uncuffed his hands, and told him that he would be back as soon as his parents arrived. Then Don was left in there, just barely able to hold his emotions in check, with only his chaotic thoughts for company.

He felt sick. It all happened so fast. He was in the batter's box, warming up when he saw Charlie biking past. He felt a swirling rage when he saw the first rock connect with his brother's head. Seeing Charlie fall from his bike and watching the bullies close in had triggered something deep inside of Don and without hesitation, he attacked. It was over in an instant, but the sound of his bat connecting with Tucker's head was still echoing in his ears.

_Would he be okay? Was Charlie all right? What would his mom and dad say? Was he going to prison? _

Don's thoughts were interrupted by his dad walking into the room with a man he recognized as one of his mother's lawyer friends. Don met his father's eyes, Alan looked older than Don had ever seen and suddenly Don couldn't hold back the sob threatening to escape.

"Dad, I'm sorry!" he cried, slumping farther forward. Alan rushed over to his son and pulled him into an awkward embrace.

"I know Donnie. It's going to be okay. We're going to work this out. You are a good boy. I know you didn't mean it. It's going to be okay," Alan chanted softly, attempting to soothe his son while desperately hoping his whispered words would not prove false.

The lawyer shifted restlessly behind him. "Alan, I'm going to need his statement."

****

#105 Prison (300)

Don's lawyer introduced himself as John Ryan and instructed Don to explain everything, leaving out no details. Don told his story while Alan sat beside him, gripping his hand. Normally Don would shy away from the touch, but in this instance he was grateful for the comfort. The lawyer's face did not change as Don spoke. He didn't ask question or offer any opinions, he just wrote quickly on a legal pad as Don told his story.

When Don finished, John leaned back in his chair and studied Don carefully. "I won't lie to you. This is very serious. However, we have a solid case. You were acting in defense of your brother, who is very young and was being viciously attacked."

Alan heaved a sigh of relief, but froze again at the lawyer's grave expression.

"The problem at this point is the extent of the other boy's injuries. I spoke to the police and they informed me that Tucker James hasn't regained consciousness. His parents are also pushing for Don to be prosecuted as an adult." John relayed in a reluctant tone.

"An adult? He's fourteen! They can't do that!" Alan exclaimed, outraged.

"I'm afraid they can, Alan. The best course of action at this point is for Don to cooperate fully, demonstrate clear remorse, and hope for a merciful judge. The first step is for Don to sign this confession and get into processing for the night." John said, pushing his notepad and pen across the table to Don.

Don stared at the pad, unable to focus on anything being said around him. His mind blanked after hearing that Tucker was still unconscious.

Alan had latched on to a different part of the lawyer's words. "Processing?"

"Fingerprinted, photographed, and transferred to the Youth Correctional Facility for the night."

****

#135 Guilty (250)

_You killed me Don. I was just playing around and you killed me. Now you're in jail and you're going to stay there forever…._

_No Mom… No Dad…. No Charlie…. They won't want you anymore…. _

_You killed me Don…. You're a murderer._

Don woke with a start. It took a long moment for him to realize where he was and another for his rapid breathing to calm. He was lying on a bunk bed in a smelly cell, wearing a scratchy orange jumpsuit, and he could hear soft snores coming from the bed below his. It had been the same for the past week, since his arraignment.

Don sat up, fully aware now, and ran a hand across his face. He knew he should try to return to sleep, so that he would be fully awake tomorrow for his disposition hearing, but was certain that if he did, his nightmares would return. Tucker James haunted his sleep.

Don rationally knew that Tucker wasn't dead. Through the course of the week, Don's lawyer had impressed upon him how that fact was the only thing that managed to keep Don from facing charges in a criminal court rather than a juvenile one.

It didn't matter to Don though. He deserved prison. Instead of attending his eighth grade graduation, Tucker was lying flat on his back in a hospital bed and Don was here, in a cell, and nothing was going to change that. Sentencing tomorrow was irrelevant. Don knew he was guilty.


End file.
